


Missing Pieces

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-07-06
Updated: 2002-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 10:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist





	Missing Pieces

## Missing Pieces

by Shy

[]()

* * *

**MISSING PIECES**

by Shy 

Everything seemed to be made of molten gold as Clark watched the color shining and sparkling through the air and the people as if it was a second vein. Ladies twirled in gaudy silk dresses laced with gold threading. Gold jewelry tinkled along with floating laughter. Men wore amber and diamond cufflinks along sharp tuxedos to stand out. Sparkle. Everyone in the fabulous Luthor ballroom seemed to want to do that. Outshine all the others. Stand out. Sparkle. 

Not Clark. 

Much like a fish that had been separated from its school, Clark retreated to the corner in a stuffy Victorian gold-leafed chair. He thought he was watching a painting of rich, untouchable, sophisticated people come to life in a grand version of the "Great Gadsby," which he had to read for English. Clark still felt the untouchable barriers between these worlds. He would never fit in. Lana must be somewhere having the time of her life with a certain golden boy of Smallville high. And why not? They did. 

He had asked Chloe to dance. Tripped several times. He apologized for having two left feet and decided to stop, though Chloe knew better and bravely stayed with him, trying to joke and lighten the mood. Pete came by and chatted. Yet he knew the familiar sad look in his friend's demeanor and that Clark would be like this until they left the vicinity of Lana's presence. Pete sighed, shook his head, muttering about how some people need to move on, and took Chloe onto the gold swirled marble floor. 

Yet Clark had moved on. It had taken him a long time to admit to himself that Lana was like this lovely masterpiece of people in that he would never touch. He liked her a lot, but as the weeks trudged by the lust cooled like a pie on the windowsill. She was still a sweet person and now a good friend, but that was it. 

But when had he stopped noticing Lana? In the past few months he had made several desperate attempts to capture her attention until he gave up. No. Among all the lies and half-truths, at least he had to be honest with himself. The day of the car accident suddenly came unbidden to his mind. Lex had physically and literally driven him off the ledge with his sleek automobile, charm, and dashing good looks. Yow. Dashing was how his grandmother talked about his grandfather the first day she had met him. He could almost imagine his horrible dialogue. 

So Lex, would a guy like you ever go for a guy like me? 

It was funny in a way, looking back. Both of them had been lost on that sunny day, their identities had been snatched from them. While Lex might not have anything physically different about him, he had been taken and forcefully dumped in a tiny town as though he was a spoilt child sent to a time out and not a full grown young man used to being in charge of his life. Whether unconsciously or not, his father had sent him hurling down the path of his destiny, that had been set in motion and he didn't get the presidential veto. He couldn't even be who he wanted to be, with all the power that he had. 

Lex, as he saw it...had been banished from humanity. 

Clark, as he saw it...had been banished from humanity. 

Clark...was...is not human. Scary thought, that. Nothing wrong with being a little stronger, a little faster (Lex would say that's how people survived in his world) but being this special is too much. For all Clark's power, he can't be what he wants either. Normal. When the utter loneliness of being who he is hurts, not even his parents can understand, no human can, save one person. Only Lex could relate to being so alienated. So maybe that is why Clark slouches rather uncomfortably in the stuffy chair watching these beautiful humans trying to outshine one another to be the most original. Because Clark, like Lex, never even has to try to be different. He was born this way. 

When the first keys of the piano are struck Clark was gripping the arm of his chair tightly in frustration. Surprised, he grabbed a little too hard and heard the wood creak loudly in protest. 

"Hope you don't outgrow that old thing while you sit on it." A soft, masculine voice drifts to him over soft piano music. Lex. Is playing the piano. 

Moonlight Sonata No. 9. To his unrequited love. 

From Clark's angle he gets a nice view of his friend's fashionable ensemble. Decked out in a full Armani suit, Lex is definitely dressed to impress. The rich, dark colors accentuated the look of a stealthy hunter. Yet the hunter seemed at rest tonight. Being bald only softened his pale, delicate features. Maybe it was the softer dark blue tie that saved him from looking like the ultimate villain. Or the brilliant red rose he wore to perfection in his suit. 

Clark grins despite his moody thoughts. 

Plopping down beside the older man, "Just thinking. Guests keep you busy?" 

What Clark didn't know was that the prey had already been snagged. Twice. 

And the lure had been set again. 

Gruer family jewelers were one of the oldest privately owned diamond-mining companies in the world. They had been kept in retainer by several of Europe's reigning crowned monarchs through the centuries. The older Gruer had died, leaving Frederick the Younger, a pompous, soft-bellied man of 40 at the helm. Within 2 years the company was falling apart at the seams. The elder Gruer never had sold the African lands that the family owned for generations. Keeping the land meant keeping control of everything. Productions, costs, sale prices, made it all self-contained. But Frederick was not the strong man his father was, being unable to keep afloat during recent harsh economic times. It didn't help that most of the family fortune had been lost in the crash of 29', and further squandered on gambling and lots of fast women. Now the Gruer family was in heavy debt. Lex had swooped in before competition and made a handsome offer to buy the company as well as clear it of debt. With the mines starting to dry up, Frederick had jumped at the offer, trying to keep the dead mines a secret like Lex had known he would. Lex had his own spies in the Gruer company and knew more than most tabloids. Whatever Frederick's many mistresses wanted they got, leading the man around by the balls. The man couldn't stand the uh, pressure. What he didn't know, and what a team of experts had informed Lex of was that another mineral of great value had been found. All the man had to do was dig a little deeper. Gold. Or rather, black gold. He had his own geologists secretly hired as overseers. Only white men were allowed to be in jobs that were not grunt work, while the natives of the country did the physical backbreaking labor. He was ecstatic and disgusted to find out the inner workings of the mines. Whoever said slavery was dead had never seen the place. Reports of abuse and horrible living conditions along with irrefutable evidence of the oil were laid across his desk as he pondered what to do. Carefully, he crafted his plan the way a spider constructs its web to catch flies. Bribes placed, and the knowledge of the new commodity had never been properly sent up, purposely misplaced until it was too late. The deal had been closed in a little over an hour. Lex was already busy making plans to fix up the mines, fire the corrupt (those he had bribed), and bring the abusers up on criminal charges. The workers had lived on pitiable wages, and not being able to afford education, their children had to join the viscous cycle. He would give fair wages and relief to the people. They would be grateful and trustworthy. His accountants had estimated a gaining of 2-3 billion in the next few years, more money than the Gruer family had ever seen. Everyone would win, Luthorcorp most of all. 

As for Frederick, he would be receiving a special package this coming Saturday after all paperwork had been completed and the deeds under Luthorcorp name... 

The other was a smaller acquisition to his father's empire of technology companies by listening to the president of WonderTech's drunken tirade about the companies' recent downfall. Courtesy of Mr. Dom Periong. The weakness and ignorance of men once again amazed Lex. 

Unflappable to the extreme after these trials, he wanted to go after his favored prey. But it was a much more innocent and relaxing game. Though seeing Clark sitting so handsome and maudlin made Lex want to cheer him up. Not so innocent thoughts of how to do this roamed through his evil imagination. 

Poor Clark, lost among the lone sharks and feeling very obviously out of place. Lex thanked whatever powers may be that Clark had taken after Mrs. Kent's sense of style. Even dressed in a cheap suit, and to Lex's delight a soft baby blue tie that made the boy's sugar eyes even bluer, he was a wonderful sight. With soft cherry lips and delicate chocolate hair curling over his eyes, Lex felt like digging in minus the sundae spoon. 

Instead, he answered Clark's question. "All clandestine meetings of Doom have taken place, guests flattered, champagne poured, and so on. I'm finally free from under dad's net for a while." This was not a Plant manager, genius scientist, or billionaire's son answering scathing allegations with witty retorts. Though he was all that. No tricks, threats, or boardroom hardball. It was a tired young man who just wanted to be with a friend. 

He had missed Clark earlier in the evening, having host duties and people he was required to schmooze with by business standards. Devil forbid his father finds something more to complain about. Much wilder nights in Metropolis included endless rivers of liquor, illicit drugs, and gossiping if not partaking in adulterous scandals. Thinking of the other more exciting parties he had been to, Lex realized he had never been as happy as this moment just sitting with Clark. Something wonderful about the boy drew Lex to him. No amount of money matched Clark's worth, all anyone had to do was dig a little deeper to see it. He could not help but think how the men of his cutthroat world never held on to the richest pieces of their lives. 

The room started to thin out into the dinning room. Dinner started at 8'. 

Clark had let the soothing sounds wash over him and noted the melancholy in his friend's choice of music and manner. He tried to keep the conversation lighter. 

"When did you learn to play the piano?" 

"The undertaking of my education included being well-rounded. My father saw the Japanese way of the warrior as part his guideline into raising me. To be balanced in the ways of aggression as well as gentleness makes one more cultured and aware while less likely to be rash." He didn't mention the part about the acceptance of male-male love. 

"Write any haikus?" 

Lex snorted elegantly, if such a thing were possible. "Never. Can you imagine my dad flower arranging while I recite thought provoking poetry?" Clark snickered. 

"Dad never wanted a weak pansy, so the poetry and gardening were out. Instead, he decided music was a satisfactory substitute to fill in for the 'weak side'. Distinguishable enough for it not to be embarrassing to him." 

"Well, it seems to have paid off. You're amazing on the piano!" Clark blushed. 

So the fish was nibbling. 

Lex hid a smile under the cognac he was sipping as he continued playing with his other hand. 

Clark thought for a moment. "I've got one." 
    
    
                                           I relate to Lex
                                    and the piano more than        
                                            anybody here
    

"Very nice, Kent-san. How did you come up with that?" Lex had felt like that all evening, to be surrounded by people, and yet never feeling more alone. 

"Thinking how we're alike. Sometimes, I think, neither of us relate to this world. Feeling so different, like we don't belong here or something. Do you ever feel...isolated? " He finished lamely. 

Lex was a master of evasion, the IRS could attest to that. He knew Clark was trying to avoid the question. 

"We all do sometimes." How long had he felt so alone? The question chilled him when he realized it never bothered him before Clark. 

"Can you play anything?" 

"I think the Chopsticks are my greatest achievement." 

Lex stopped playing for a moment. "Mozart is one of my favorite composers, and I enjoy playing some of his pieces. Perhaps I can teach you a little something." 

"I don't know." 

"Just relax. Tonight, I'll only ask you to hit one key during the song." 

"Just one key? I think I can handle that." An expert hand guided his index finger to the smooth mark. 

The melody was soft and steady and gentle. Lovely as a girl Clark used to pine for with all his being. Keys danced as Lex picked up the pace with such speed and skill it hypnotized Clark, as long, slim fingers raced with a frantic urgency. It transformed the song into a deeper, sometimes haunting, sometimes mirthful, masculine tone. The image of an enchanting man. He tried to focus on what moment would be his turn. Lex didn't have to worry. The song came to a familiar part and Clark touched the key unconsciously. 

"Wow." 

"See, you really played the timing well. From that one key my teacher would say you have an ear for beat. You'll be a master in no time." 

Clark laughed. "I guess we make beautiful music together." 

"Indeed." The voice held so much warmth Clark had to stare at him. 

"Lex darling, you haven't introduced me to you're newest * pupil*." A young blond woman wrapped in a stunning yellow dress and furs stood next to the piano. 

Clark would have offered to shake her hand if she didn't try to hang all over Lex. 

"Meredith Walden, this is my _friend_ , Clark. The charming woman you see before you owns most of the beauty salons in Metropolis." And one of a list of people he regretted ever sleeping with. Lex ignored the arm sliding over his shoulders and wished the catty whore would go back to her friends with false stories about his activities and leave him alone. 

Clark thought the way Lex sounded friend meant the older man didn't say the word casually, or lightly for that matter. 

Her eyes swept over him like a piece of furniture she had no intention of buying. 

"Looks like your friend could use a manicure. With such callused hands, I doubt he'd be very adept with the finer workings of such a broad instrument." It didn't seem like she was talking about music. It made Clark want to hide them. Even though he never got calluses, he still felt awkward about his size. 

"I help out on our farm. Between hay bailing, the harvest, and maintaining fences, there is not much use for clean nails. Though my mother always makes us wash our hands for dinner." He held his head high. 

He was proud of doing an adult's job, no one could make him feel shame in honest work. 

"Farm work, that's fascinating, dear. Lex, I don't believe you've given me a proper showing of the castle." Coyness wasn't one of her virtues. 

"Sorry, no tours are given to the public." 

"I was thinking a private one would be in order." She leaned down and whispered in Lex's ear. God, couldn't these floozies ever come up with something original? 

"I better go Lex, I'll talk to you later." What was he thinking? Why would Lex want him when he could have such a gorgeous creature? Clark was about to leave when Lex snatched his hand like a lifeline. 

"No need to run off, Clark." 

Meredith whined or sighed at the same time, he couldn't tell. 

"Why do you insist on hanging around this...this insignificant hick!" 

Why indeed? Lex smiled at Clark and the boy relaxed back onto the bench. 

Lex decided to put Meredith in her rightful place. Namely, the nearest trash compactor. 

He ignored her. "At one time, Clark, Mozart was asked by his king to change a piece he composed. Something about too many notes." 

Clark saw the mischief in Lex's gaze, yet could only say, "But his music is perfect!" 

"I know that, and so did Mozart." 

"So what did he do?" 

Meredith got impatient. "History is such a bore. What does one of the greatest composers of our time have in common with a field hand?" 

"Simply this. Mozart asked the king a simple question: "What note should I take out?" All the king could do was stand there and look foolish. So remember, Clark, that every key counts to make the song whole. Even the most insignificant one." 

Clark had to shut his eyes to keep from imagining Lex was flirting with him. 

The icy glare Lex gave to Meredith told her not to be expecting any more invitations from the Luthor family. She gasped and quickly took her leave, back to her cronies no doubt. 

"Thanks, Lex. For treating me like, you know. Like I actually matter." 

Lex picked a long, simple piece he knew by heart. And carefully watched Clark's expressions. 

He shook his head. "Clark, do you realize how important you are to me?" 

"You said we had a destiny together." 

"You are my best friend and I will let nothing come between us. Never let anyone tell you you're life will be meaningless, because I see something in you that I see in only the rarest of people. You are special, Clark, no matter how you hide it. Not many people will see it, because they don't know what to look for. But I was raised for greatness, and I can see the quality marked in others." 

"Greatness, huh? I wish I was as confident as you seem to be." 

"It takes years of practice. That and Reality Check 101 when you hit college." 

Clark laughed. "It feels light-years away." 

"High School will be over before you know it." 

"Yeah?" 

"No, not really. Especially if you take the most boring classes. So, have you ever thought about taking music lessons?" 

"I'd rather just listen to the piano music we hear at school recitals and musicals. "South Pacific" is going to be playing this Thursday. Would you like to come with me?" Clark was concentrating awfully hard on piano keys he wasn't playing. 

"It depends." 

"On what?" A face so raw and expectant Lex had to stifle a groan. 

He settled on a frown. "On Lana, Clark. Shouldn't you be asking the lovely Miss Lang to this formal affair? The next football game is the same night, it's the perfect chance to be with her." This was hard, but he had to make sure he looked after Clark's best interests, not his own. The true difference between business and friendship. 

Now it was Clark's turn to frown. He simply said, "I don't want to go with Lana." 

The room was now empty. Lex checked his watch. Twenty till eight. 

"Let's continue this conversation in the study." 

Footsteps echoed as they walked silently through the halls. 

The study was more personal to Lex. Yet both of them visibly relaxed when they reached it, especially when no one was there to greet them. They sat on a long couch Lex liked to take catnaps on. 

"Why not?" It was the valid question of a concerned friend. Yeah, right. 

This was it. 

Clark swallowed. "I'm not...interested in Lana that way anymore." Blushing red, that seemed to be his color tonight. 

"Mm-hm." 

"I realized over the past few months that she wasn't what I wanted." 

"Mm-hm." 

"Please, Lex! I need you to be serious. I mean, Lana and I have nothing in common. Except for never knowing our parents, how many conversations can we have feeling sorry for each other? I have more interesting conversations with Chole about newspaper and all the strange things going on around town." 

"Strange and unexplainable things do have a way of happening around you. Why not ask Chole to the play?" He knew he had to test his theory by pushing why Clark would want to take Lex instead of any other girl drooling over him, excluding Lana. 

Clark decided to ignore the former statement. "Chole is just my friend. I mean, you are my friend, too! Why are you-" 

"Trying to foist you off? No Clark, I just want you to spend time with those you care about." 

"I care about you!" No hesitation now. It was the most honest thing anyone had said to him tonight. It occurred to Lex that no one in the other room cared about him the way Clark did. Or anywhere else, for that matter. 

"I meant, you're romantic pursuits with any girl." 

Moments tick by. 

"Oh." 

"Yeah." 

He could argue that he just wants to take his best friend, but Clark doesn't want to lie anymore. Not about this. 

He finally works up his courage. "Lex, I don't think I have to worry about dating girls anymore." Funny, his stomach never got butterflies when he had to fight dangerous mutants of the week. He hoped Lex didn't freak out or laugh at him. 

He motioned for Lex to lean closer. 

Clark whispered, "I'm gay." And stared at the floor. 

Lex nearly fell off the couch. 

Clark didn't expect a hand gently cupping his face. 

Lex knew what this cost the boy. At best he might get a tolerable smile, at worst, Lex would throw him out. "Thank you for telling me. Am I the first to know?" 

"I told my parents a month ago." 

"Everything seemed normal the last time I saw them." 

"We had some awkward conversations, but they're okay with it." Tears were pooling in the boy's beautiful blue eyes. 

Clark tried to search his face for any malice. "You're not freaked out?" 

"Why should I be?" 

Tears glided down his cheeks. "I-" 

Lex held up his hand. "It's all right. I understand why you had reason to be concerned. Small towns beget small minds. And sadly, Luthors aren't the most understanding of people." 

"I don't care what the Luthors think!" Clark shouted, then tried to calm down. 

"I care about what Lex, my best friend, thinks of me..." 

He was so glad Clark could see past his last name. 

He handed Clark a silk handkerchief to dab his eyes. "Lex, who is still and will always be your best friend even if you don't allow it, is bisexual." 

Clark's jaw dropped open. 

He continued, "Ann He/She Heche doesn't rebuke Richard Simmons' lifestyle. So I don't see any reason to throw stones at you." 

Clark had to smile. 

"But even if I weren't, Clark, you would never lose my friendship over something which I don't even consider a flaw. We'd still have this connection that binds us. We would still fit together." 

Clark wanted to hug Lex, but the tension was killing him. 

"But I think about _you_. How much I want you. To kiss you, touch you and more. Do you ever think about me? In _that_ way?" 

"Every day." 

Clark did hug him then. 

Lex stiffened at first, then wrapped his arms around Clark. It felt so good...so right. 

Like two pieces connecting to make a harmonious melody complete. 

A knock on the doors. 

Blushing, Clark reluctantly pulled back. 

"Yes?" Lex asked in a commanding tone, but his face had softened. 

"The guests are all ready to dine, sir." A tall butler chimed. 

"We'll be along shortly." 

Lex winked at Clark. Clark didn't think he could turn any redder. 

The butler pretended not to notice. "Very well." Lex noted to give Enrique a raise. A soft click of the door and they were alone again. 

Lex said quietly, "I haven't had a real hug since my mother died." Hugging his father felt like hugging a machine, cold and metal and lifeless. Devoid of emotion, except betrayal. 

Clark didn't know what to say. Lex's pain hung in the air. 

Clark thought hard. Finally, he said: 
    
    
                                                      I can't afford much,
                                                 but I can make you rich in
                                                    hugs, if you want them
    

He hoped the poem wasn't inappropriate or stupid. 

Lex very deliberately kissed his forehead. 

Guess not. 

A white rose cut at the stem appeared out of nowhere. He placed it in Clark's lapel. 

Innocence defined. 

"We don't have time for anything on a grander scale. Now look at what eating all that flushed fruit has done to you." 

"Lex!" But Clark smiled. 

Lex rose to go. 

"Wait!" 

He turned to Clark. 

"You still want to go to the play with me?" 

"Sure. On one condition." 

Clark face-faulted. 

"I refuse to set you up with Whitney." 

"Oh, gross!" 

For a change, round tables were set up fashionably six to a table. Cards were placed where seats had been reserved. To Clark's right, one Pete Ross and Chloe Sullivan. To his left one L.L. and one Whitney Fordman. Wait a minute, L.L.? That meant Lana, right? He should be happy beyond belief. All he did now was let out a large sigh. The white cloth setting and red candles were elegant. But Clark was surprised to find not only a vase of red roses on his table, but the petals sprinkled all over the table. Other tables had white, yellow, and blue roses to mark the coming summer. Pete and Chloe grabbed their seats directly to the right of Clark. Both were tired from dancing and talking up a storm. 

Chloe started. "Hey Clark, we missed you out there." 

Pet butted in. "You missed Clark out there, Chloe. I was grooving to the music. Clark, you missed all my latest bustin moves to the Pete Jones collection. All the ladies eyes were on my hot bod." 

"Yeah, if they can even find it." She elbowed him. 

"Clark, you okay?" Clark seemed a bit strained. 

"Yeah. I just realized something really important." He could at least tell them the truth. 

"What?" 

"I'm over Lana. I finally understand it would never work out." Tell them, eventually. 

Pete threw his arms up in the air. "Well, Hal-de-lou-ya!" 

"Pete, be nice." Chloe knew why Clark was so sad. Sure, it was over before it had begun, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. 

"I know, but Clark, I hated to see you tear yourself up over it. It made me mad to see you hurt, and even madder that I couldn't help you." The concern in Pete's eyes shocked Clark. Had he really been that out of it? 

"Have I really been that bad?" 

"Well, duh." The heads of his friends nodded in agreement. 

"Another crisis averted in Smallville." Chloe said lightly. 

"Too bad these empty seats are going to waste. I think I'll occupy one." 

Lex had made the formal toast at the head of the room, but surprised Clark by sitting at his left. 

Chloe asked, "Where are Whitney and Lana?" 

"Miss Lang and Mister Fordman had to leave early. The coach wants him up bright and early to run laps, and Miss Lang wants to give him moral support." 

Chloe didn't like the look in Lex's eyes. Their gray-blue intensity seemed to shine at this turn of events as he watched Clark's reaction. Clark looked...relived. 

Of course, maybe Clark didn't want to face Lana just yet. 

"Don't you want to sit with high society?" Pete fired. 

Clark understood. The higher you were on the power pyramid, the lonelier it got. 

"I can sit with high society any time, I can't always sit with my friends." 

Clark wasn't the only one held in awe of Lex tonight. 

Lex respected the honesty and fairness of Clark's friends. And Chloe as competition. Though as he ambled over to the table, and sat with Clark at the piano, he noticed the appreciative stares of both genders in the boy's direction. The rose idea gave the subtle warning that Clark was taken to the Metropolis crowd. 

Light potato leak soup was served and they talked while they ate. Delicious. 

"So, anything new to add to the Wall of Weird this week?" Clark asked. 

Chloe began, "Smallville now has its very own Phantom of the Opera!" 

Pete rolled his eyes. 

She explained how she had stumbled onto the old newspaper clippings while cleaning out an old folder Pete had neglected to toss. 

She began her monologue between sups of soup. 

"Well, it's close enough. Phantom Menace of the Playhouse. There have been sightings of a capped figure haunting the school auditorium. Legend has it it's the disgruntled ghost of Richard Carson, a student who died accidentally during a school play over thirteen years ago, a couple of months after the meteors hit. Apparently, he was the victim of a heavy sandbag that fell loose. Stop laughing, Pete. But old newspaper clippings claimed foul play was afoot when Richard's girlfriend, Julia Marks, attempted to commit suicide soon after. But no proof has ever been found. They fought on the night of Richard's death, apparently the guy had caught Julia cheating on him with his rival for the secondary part, John Hilton. She has been staying in a rickety old house on the north side of town ever since, in care of her father. They haven't had the play on again until this year. All last week, the cast heard strange noises, and large objects moved around the stage overnight behind locked doors. But no graffiti and nothing was stolen. It's like Richard wants to finish his scenes and finally rest." 

"Wait a minute, why the second male part? Why not the first?" Clark wanted to know. 

"You've never seen the play before, have you? The lead characters are the most boring two-dimensional acts one could find. And Bloody Mary totally steals the show." 

Lex noticed Clark asked questions of merit and made rather thoughtful statements even after the stressful night he'd had. He decided a relaxation game was in order. 

Clark almost spit out the last of his soup. 

Under the tablecloth he felt a leg next to his left slowly brush his. 

Lex kept on eating like nothing had happened. Dinner was served, stuffed quail and some vegetables Clark had never seen. 

"How does she eat and talk at the same time?" Lex asked. 

"Unsolved mystery." Pete replied and was rewarded with another elbow jab. 

"Ouch! Those elbows should be registered weapons!" 

Again Clark felt a soft brush against his leg, but this time it was a definite foot shape that made its way up from his ankle to his upper calf. Up and down. 

"Clark." 

In small circles. 

Drawing invisible lines into his pants. 

"Earth to Clark!" He jerked up from his roasted quail and nearly spilled his water glass to answer Chloe. 

"Jeez. I thought I was going to have to pull you down from orbit myself. Will you come with me on Monday after school to interview our possible creepy resident psychopath?" 

"Oh...uh, yeah. Soon as I finish chores. And any deliveries..." 

Clark fought the urge to glare at Lex. With such gangly legs it was hardly fair he couldn't flirt back. 

Leave it to Lex to always take the cruelest advantages over him. 

"I'll also try digging at the library for more clues. Pete, we also need you to check around the stage and interview the cast members." 

"All right!" 

"What are you so happy about?" Clark asked. 

"Oh, come on, Clark. I get to interview some of the hottest girls in school! Plus I get to watch them rehearse in their bikinis. Isn't that the great American dream for every hard working red-blooded male?" 

Lex's foot made another circuit. 

"I could think of a different one..." Clark muttered. 

Pete quirked an eyebrow. "Well, we'd all like to have the dream girl along with the grand yacht and a pile of money. But this man can settle. Sorry for you Clark, stuck with Chloe hunting up crazies, missing out on all those pretty girls." 

The foot pulled away. Clark felt relieved yet sad at the loss of the warmth. 

"Hey!" An angry Chloe. 

"Ouch!" An injured Pete. 

Until Lex's hand came to rest on his knee. 

A quick glance, Lex was still eating with his left hand. And smirking. 

He didn't know Lex was ambidextrous. 

"Somehow I'll manage my disappointment." He coughed. 

"Thanks, Clark." Chloe smiled warmly at him. 

"We'll need to meet here. I have to make a couple of deliveries around town so it would be along the way." No need to mention one of them would be Lex's house. 

"Kwan will have to let me run a special edition about haunted sites and ghosts when I unmask the phantom!" Her eyes danced in excitement. 

"Jeenkies! Now all we need is for Clark to trade in his dad's old truck for a Hippymobile, adopt a talking dog with a speech impediment, grab some really bad 60s music, and we've got it made!" 

Elbow. 

Pete was going to be sore in the morning. 

"There's nothing wrong with the oldies, is there Lex?" Chole asked, daring him to make a correction on the formalities. 

Lex was rubbing oblong circles on his wine stem in perfect timing as his right hand stroked Clark's thigh. 

Symbolism. Clark wasn't that daft. 

Clark swallowed his food and noticed a peculiar warmth spreading to his belly. 

"I own a little of everything through the decades, Miss Sullivan. The Temptations, The Rolling Stones, Elton John, and Louis Armstrong to name a few during those years. My favorite 60s music is the Beatles. They started a revolution without bloodshed, which I have to admire. I even own some music Lennon wrote but never published." 

"There you have it, Pete. Oldies are certified A-okay by the cool crowd." 

Lex smirked at being called, "cool." 

"I thought all of his songs were published, even the unfinished ones." Clark wondered aloud, trying to ignore the stirring in his pants. 

If Lex didn't stop this maddening game, things were going to get...sticky. 

"Some were not only too far ahead of his time, but he was high on who knows what when he was writing them. Interesting results, really. There was a private auction held. Ms. Ono was more than happy to sell them to the highest bidder." 

Now Lex took the head of the glass in one hand and swallowed a bit noisily. Great. 

"Ono? As in weird poetry and even weirder art Yoko Ono? You met her? What was she like? 

"Nice." 

"Really?" 

You would be nice too, if I threw in a seaside home in England and a favorite Rolls Royce to sweeten the deal. 

"There's not much to tell. After so many years of letting them settle in the peripheral dust of her endless closet, she decided to share them with the world. Or, at least the highest bidder. She knew they would be even more valuable after such a waiting period. One of the shrewdest business women I ever met." 

"Did she try to sell you some of her paintings?" 

"Yes." 

That wasn't all she had tried to sell. 

"How come we don't see any hanging up in your stately manor?" 

Clark worked up the nerve to take his hand in Lex's under the table. 

"I prefer only the rarest of treasures. Only they make me... appreciate what I have all the more." 

"Hey, that reminds me! Next Saturday is going to be the giant antique fair held in Metropolis. Let's all go together." Chloe suggested. 

Clark looked at Lex and secretly squeezed his hand. 

"Lex, you'll come with us, right? It isn't exactly Christie's, but it'll be a lot of fun. Besides, you never know what unexpected treasures you might find." Chole's expression turned into a small frown, but quickly recovered. Pete kept eating as if he didn't hear. 

Lex smiled. 

A real smile Clark was beginning to cherish, so rare they were! 

"I'd be delighted." 

Clark could feel his pulse beat a little faster. 

"I can't remember the last time I felt so intrigued by the lure of a treasure." 

Dessert was a lemon cream cake that melted on Clark's tongue. So interesting the talk and delicious the pastry Clark nearly forgot he was holding Lex's hand. Nearly. All through dinner, well into dessert. Clark was acting visibly strange, but Chloe and Pete had written it off as getting over Lana. Chloe kept smiling at Clark, like she knew something he didn't. He would have to tell her soon, but having this secret shown almost blatantly in front of them when they still couldn't tell was a real turn on. 

Usually, Clark was the oblivious one. 

Lex also told of a humorous story during dessert of when he was boarding in England. His father had arranged for a visit with some of Britain's top businessmen with his son to show him the ropes of corporations' finer workings. The meeting was set on a Sunday early in the morning. A day of rest, indeed. But Lex's roommates were tired of his "yes sir" attitude. They laid in wait for him to come home after classes, kidnapped him, and dragged him to the nearest gentleman's pub. Between mugs of beer he chugged down, he noticed a strange man had been at the pub, stone drunk, squawking like a chicken, and trying to moon the passing cars outside before somebody thought to stop him. Finally, he was taken by the arms of some tough guys and led away. Lex stumbled back early that afternoon where everyone was angrily waiting for him to start the meeting. But before he got into any trouble, he saw the same strange man. Much more suitably dressed and acting quite normal. The tough guys were bodyguards. He was one of the most powerful men in the room Lex realized, and Lex managed no small feat when he took the man aside and told him what he saw. The meeting was adjourned until the next day, when both men were better collected. 

That was just the start of his more _vocal_ rebellious days. 

Pete laughed at the mooning part. "Sweet-cheeking. Not just for poor folks anymore." 

Clark saw that Lex had told the story to make fun of himself, as well as rich people in general, deliberately making Pete and Chloe more comfortable. 

"I'll warn you about the insane sorority initiations when you're a bit older. The vulgar stupidity of male traditions is a trade secret, and a lady is present." 

Chloe laughed, "If this guy is so prominent, how come it never made the London times or something?" 

"Because he owns the newspapers. And several television stations as well. That no word of what happened ever came about shows how powerful he really is." 

"Too bad the guy has to live under the cameras, even if it was dumb. I know I've done stupid stuff before and people made fun, but to have to live with risking millions of people laughing at him." Clark added. 

Clark was the only person Lex knew who felt sorry for every billionaire he came across. 

"That is just one price paid for power. There are many others." 

Letting go of Clark's hand, Lex stood up. 

The guests had started to leave early, some having to drive or fly to their current destinations. Lex only left for a few minutes to say his good-byes like a generous host. 

He couldn't have cared less. 

"Let's go, Clark." Chloe said. 

"Lex is going to give me a ride." He said nervously. 

"Why?" 

"We have some stuff to talk about." He made an excuse to go to the bathroom, saying he'd see them on Monday. 

A pair of men left before Clark entered, giving him strange glances, whispering about how early it was for picking buds in the spring. They didn't look like florists. He splashed his face with cold water. 

"Clark man, you okay?" Pete had followed him. 

"Yeah, what's wrong?" 

"I could say the same for you." 

"Huh?" 

"Lex was acting funny." Uh oh. 

"I thought you said all billionaires were eccentric." 

"Not like the ones who hold my friend's hand all through dinner." 

"Pete, I-" 

"Give me more credit than that! Who do you think wrote the book on smooth moves?" 

"..." 

"All right, guess I deserved that. Clark, I've been noticing something wasn't right all this month whenever you were with Lana. You're blind worship of her disappeared almost overnight." 

"You knew I was..." 

"I didn't know till I saw you with Lex. The vibes you gave him were how a guy acts towards a girl he likes. Chloe would have sensed something if she weren't working up the nerve to ask you out." 

"Wait, Chloe likes me?" 

"For once, you have a reasonable excuse for being so dense." 

"Are you mad?" Clark hated the guilt. Why did he feel so bad? Should he feel guilty? 

"Of course not! Clark, you realize you're talking to almost the entire black population of Smallville High when you're with me? Prejudice based on what people can't change about themselves makes me angrier more than anything. I've lived with a certain amount of contempt from certain kids my entire life, just because of the color of my skin." 

Clark hadn't known racism was alive in Smallville. He leaned against the sinks. 

His hand closed around the faucet and he had to steady himself not to rip it off like Velcro. Not since the time he had thrown the bully through the door did anyone pick on Pete whenever he was around. He stood again. What he felt with Phelan was similar to this. 

Instant rage. 

The change in his eyes scared Pete. "Clark, you okay?" 

"Who threatened you?" The face was so alien Pete had to step back. 

Keeping his friend reasonable, he tried to talk in calm voice, "Clark, you can't change the way fools think. Ignorant people will always be around. You just have to keep living, keep loving. No matter what they say, we are strong and we are normal, just different. Not being able to see a person for what they really are, that's a weakness." 

It was the longest speech Clark ever heard from Pete. A damn good one, when he could feel his hands desperate to crush the next bigot that walked by. 

"So, I'm cool with it. Not that I'm interested, but you're not the only guy with their eye on Lana. And it's less competition with the ladies. But I'm not watching 6 Feet Under with you anymore." He joked. 

The large muscles in his arms relaxed. 

Clark might be gay, but he was no cream puff. 

"Deal. Thanks for being my friend, Pete. Only you and my parents know, and I'll tell Chloe after school on Monday. But I still need to keep this a secret, all right?" 

"No problem. Hell, I'm almost cheering you on a little. I still don't like him much, but it's good for Lex to be with you, and you him. He acts more like a human being, and you've acted happier and sharper this evening than I've seen in a long time." 

"So that's why you agreed to come?" 

They finally walked out. The hall was deserted. 

"Well, it wasn't to snark about the fancy fondue set. Though Chloe, slashaholic that she is, will still want a play-by-play." 

Clark was about to ask what the heck was slash, when a strong hand clasped his shoulder, sending a shock through his body. 

"There you are." 

"Lex, can you drive me back?" 

"We have some important matters to talk about anyway." 

"It's okay, Lex. Pete figured it out, and he's got no problem with it." 

"I do have one, besides the age difference." 

"Oh?" Lex watched, bemused. 

"Piles of money or not, listen to me." 

Pete actually stared the taller man down. 

"If you ever hurt Clark, I will kick your lily white ass." 

He couldn't laugh it off. Lex had received many threats before, but this one had the open face of one friend trying to protect another. No masks, just concern shining forth. This kind of loyalty could never be bought. He knew the same speech would come from Jonathan, but with a shotgun. Chloe would dig ruefully through his past, hound him till his grave. Martha might bake him acid brownies. 

These people loved Clark. 

"You have my word." He respectfully made a bow to Pete. A truce. 

"I'll go get Chloe, see you later." Pete started walking away. 

"Thank God he didn't know about the footsie." 

"I do now!" He had forgotten the echo. 

"You ready?" Lex laughed. 

"Sure." Clark was valiantly fighting the blush on his cheeks. 

How adorable. 

Few things tasted better going up than coming down, Lex surmised, while taking one last sip of cognac. He grabbed a duster and a pair of gloves. A rush of nervous excitement ran through Lex at the thought of being alone in his Ferrari. With Clark. 

He further surmised he was slightly giddy. He wasn't drunk, he knew the difference. It was an odd but pleasant feeling. 

Drinking used to enhance his senses. 

An attendant brought up a sleek, black Ferrari. Driving through the cool, Kansas night air would sober him up. Darkness swallowed the earth and only the shining stars could offer comfort. 

Clark waited until they passed the gates to speak up. 

"Lex, please warn me if you're going to do something like that!" At least so he could fight, ahem, flirt back. 

Chuckling, Lex drove slower than he normally would. He wanted to make this last. 

"If I was truly evil I could have taken some petals off the table and used them for such nefarious deeds you wouldn't be able to get up civilly." 

Blushing, Clark studied the floor. "You're not upset about Pete knowing?" 

"I'm glad Pete knows. Wish I could brag to the whole town." 

"He said he understands what it's like to have someone misjudge you because you may be different. That there are racists in this town." The anger came back like a moth to a flame. 

"I'm not surprised. I don't see any black members in the Garden club elite." 

"I don't understand why." 

"Why what?" 

"Why do people have to treat a person like crap because they aren't the same!" He shouted out the window. 

Cornstalks shook at the force. 

Lex, thankfully, had to make a sharp turn or he would have seen. 

"Because people fear what they don't understand. They can't comprehend that the person is just like them, human, but has this difference about them. So they alienate the person and treat them separately from the group. And it isn't just with race, color, or sexuality. You see prejudice everyday at school. Cheerleaders, science geeks, band people, jocks, Goths, all of them have their own little cliques." 

"Lana quit Cheerleading." 

"But she still clings to the town hero as all expect her to. Even Lana wouldn't dare break the barriers completely by considering dating, say, Pete for instance." 

"I'm wondering if she ever even gave me a chance. I tried so many times to give her signals and do stuff that showed her I was interested and to make her comfortable. Every time I tried to be myself, she ended up arguing and fighting with me. Like when I tried to help Kyle out, she wouldn't trust me. You stood by me, even though he was a wanted criminal." 

"You're my friend, Atticus. I told you I would do _anything_ to help my friends out. But I digress. Prejudice is something you get used to. Regardless my sexual orientation, I've been an admitted outsider because of my money, my appearance, and my last name." 

"It's hard to imagine you as anything but a popular leader. Someone people pay attention and give respect to." 

"You'd be surprised how hard I have to work to get that respect. Sometimes people still won't give me a chance, no matter what I do. Prejudice abounds in the best of people." He noted dryly. 

Clark was going to have a long talk with his father. 

"Nothing my dad can say will change my view of you. And I wouldn't mind Pete if he was a 10 foot tall Sasquash that had polka-dots all over ." 

"Now, Carrot Top is definitely not human. All should mock and fear his dastardly hair and unfunny collect call commercials." 

Clark smiled. 

"Well, try not to badmouth everyone's acting experience on Thursday." 

"Knowing Smallville, I doubt I'll have five minutes alone with you on our date before Chloe incriminates us, or the newest X-files reject clocks me on the head. Not to mention we'll probably get lousy aisle seats." 

"You sound like a balcony man." 

"How ever else will I get to molest a minor in private?" More blushing. 

"I already turned seventeen a few months back. Who says the Internet never has useful information?" He ran his hand along the seat. 

"Clark, I want you to realize that being gay isn't something you can turn off. It will be a part of you the rest of your life. You have already taken some amazing steps tonight with the tests I put up." 

"I suspected, the seating arrangements, getting me to ask Lana to the play, all your counters, and I ended up with you." 

"Whatever made you happy, I was determined you would have it. After failing so miserably trying to play matchmaker, I end up having two dates with you in a week! Not that I'm complaining, but Lex Luthor rarely has a losing streak. Bad for my image." 

"I noticed you only put L.L. on the card." 

"A guy can dream." 

"You mean, scheme." 

"You should be a writer. It's in you're blood." 

He had no idea _what_ was in his veins. "Maybe." 

"I mean it. You made some connections about the Phantom Story even I, shady plot mastermind, didn't think of." 

"Thanks, Lex." He knew Lex wouldn't flatter Clark unless he meant it. 

The Kent farm came into view. 

"I guess we're all showing our hidden talents tonight." Lex said mysteriously, and caressed the side of Clark's face. 

Clark moaned, the glove slid gently over him as if Lex was trying to form a mold by memory. 

"Being ambidextrous just isn't for playing piano, huh?" 

Lex decided to let it go for tonight. Switching the headlights off, he drove up to the front of the house. 

"Why do you think I consented to play in the first place? With both hands equally adept, the possibilities are endless." 

No lights were on. 

"My folks went to bed already." 

"And let you go to my unscrupulous party till the early hours?" 

"They trust me." 

He looked at Lex. Lex saw the heated lust he'd seen in many other pairs of eyes. But he saw something else glimmer in the moonlight. 

"And I trust you." Warmth. Affection. 

And he felt something break. No wonder Clark was staring at the floor all evening, he must have been picking up all the pieces. 

Of a shattered heart. 

Lex tried speaking, failed, and looked at Clark. Swallowed and tried again. 

"Close your eyes." He ordered, but in a whisper. Clark instantly saw blackness. 

Lex took the rose from Clark's lapel and started brushing the boy's entire face with the delicate petals. Clark gasped. He took his time, tracing all the lovely features in feather light strokes. 

Eyebrows. Forehead. Cheeks. Lips. 

Clark groaned at the soft, velvety caress of the flower and the light, heated breaths on his neck. Seconds or hours could have passed by while Lex groomed his face, absorbing every detail into memory. 

Finally, Clark felt the softest brush of lips blessing his mouth. More delicate than the petals, it tickled then set his face aflame. His eyes opened at the gentle touch. As Lex tried to break away, he pulled him in closer with such need and ferocity they crashed against each other in his attempt to keep the warmth from receding. 

Flesh pressed against hot flesh as warmth and electricity flowed between them. Now knowing Clark was ready for something more, Lex took the initiative by licking the boy's lip and the boy opened tilted his head, opening wide. Lex plunged in and explored the wet cavern, making a small noise of satisfaction he didn't think he was capable of. Their tongues met and tasted of one another. The faint taste of the lemon cake along with Clark's own musky yet earthly scent filled his senses to an overload capacity. Clark could taste the rich alcohol and felt dizzy from the pungent aroma he found lying at the back of Lex's throat. A drink he now wanted to savor. Pulses racing, they came up for air. 

The momentary sweetness of completion took their breaths away. 

"Goodnight, Clark." Lex whispered. 

Somehow Clark climbed out. For a long time, he watched the sleek automobile disappear into the night before he remembered to draw in air. It wasn't a rejection. 

It was a promise. 


End file.
